Scotch & Cake
by andrhats
Summary: A phone call can ruin so much, including Link and Sheik's highly anticipated video game date night. The weight on Sheik's shoulders increases, and in the end there is only one person who can help him alleviate it: the dreaded Sheikah matriarch.


**The Legend of Zelda, its characters and locations are all property of Nintendo. Any and all OCs and original locations belong to me unless specifically stated to belong to someone else.**

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**Scotch and Cake**

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_"...give it some thought. I'll call you back in a couple of days to hear your decision. Have a good day."_

The line went dead, and it took Sheik a moment to even realise it, his eyes vacantly boring into the wall. Back in reality, he confirmed that the call was over, staring at the black screen, the words of the conversation echoing inside his head over and over. His heart was racing, the blood rushing through his ears.

Why?

Why now?

He...he needed some air. He headed for the door, nearly tripping over the bucket in front of him. Why was the bucket, half-full of soapy, hot water...?

Oh, right.

He'd been in the middle of cleaning his apartment, because he was expecting company. Very important company.

His boyfriend, in fact.

Focusing on that thought, which alleviated the noise in his head somewhat, he abandoned his plans for fresh air and instead continued cleaning. It wasn't a hundred percent effective, the voice that had been on the other end resurfacing every now and then, which made him pause and get lost again.

In the end, it took him three times as long to finish. By the time he hopped into the shower, he barely had fifteen minutes until Link was supposed to arrive for their date. Not nearly enough time for him to get ready, physically or mentally, which left him panicking just a little as he climbed out, he had less than five minutes...and he'd wanted to do his hair properly, because even though their date for the night was going to be a lazy one mostly focused on video games, he'd still wanted to look good for Link.

But no, it wasn't meant to be, apparently. The hairdryer wasn't enough, and it was with a scowl at his reflection in the mirror that he pulled it into a normal, boring ponytail.

Gods, if Link had dressed up for this, Sheik was going to die of embarrassment. At least he could wear his nice jeans and a shirt, at least, if nothing else.

There was a knock at the door just as he'd started to button up the shirt. "Just a minute!" he called, quickly finishing and racing towards the door, unlocking and ripping it open without even looking through the peephole.

He didn't need to. He recognised Link's knock by now. It was a little timid, like he was trying not to make too much noise.

The daredevil himself stood in the hall, dressed in (thankfully) a simple set of jeans, a hoodie, and a leather jacket. Not even close to dressed up. He had his bike helmet in one hand, and a stuffed backpack was thrown over his shoulder, the end of a power chord sticking out of a pocket.

Relief filled Sheik...and then a little embarrassment because now he felt overdressed. What had he been thinking? They'd agreed they both wanted a lazy, relaxing date instead of something stressful, which included not having to worry too much about what to wear, to dress in something comfortable and casual in order to put each other at ease.

That fucking phone call, it had ruined everything!

"Hey," Link said, smiling softly.

"Hey," Sheik replied, stepping back to let him. He looked around quickly, to make sure he hadn't missed anything during his clean-up. There was probably a ton of spots he'd failed to get or reach, distracted as he'd been.

Link waited until he'd closed the door and re-locked it (Sheik didn't like leaving his door unlocked, even when he was at home) before putting down his backpack and helmet, stepping up to Sheik, putting his arms around him and drawing him close.

"I missed you," Link said, kissing Sheik's forehead, and then his lips.

Sheik returned the kiss, his heart giving a little flutter. Gods, he loved it when Link did that. "Missed you too," he said.

"Missed you more," Link countered, but drawing back to look at Sheik closely. "I like your shirt," he said, reaching for the top button. "New design?"

Sheik blinked in confusion. What was that supposed to mean? It was a standard dress shirt, a deep maroon colour, and...and...he'd buttoned it up wrong. He must have been distracted by Link's knock, and accidentally put the second top button into the top hole. He must've looked like an absolute fool.

"Here, I've got you," Link continued, not giving Sheik a chance to panic too much. He deftly redid the buttons for him, giving Sheik's chin a little stroke on his way out (the smooth bastard). "There, all better."

"Th-Thank you," Sheik stuttered, his face burning in a mix of embarrassment and shame. What kind of man couldn't even get fucking _buttons_ right?!

"You're welcome," Link said, smiling sweetly. "I'm a little surprised—I thought we agreed on casual tonight." He fiddled with the zipper of his hoodie. "I feel a little underdressed."

Sheik drew back, scratching his neck nervously. "I...forgot?" he said. "Sorry, I ran out of time and I got a little stressed, so I just got dressed in the first thing that came to mind and that was this shirt, and then you knocked when I was putting it on, and—"

"Hey, it's okay," Link said as he took Sheik's flailing hands in his (he hadn't even noticed he'd done it). "It's all right. As long as you don't mind me wearing this, we're good."

Sheik took a moment to calm down his breath. "And if I said I wasn't?" he asked, trying for cheeky but ending up with something that was closer to meek. Luckily, Link played along.

"I'd leave, get on Epona, rush back to my place and put something else on," he said without hesitation. "Want me to?"

"Please don't!"

He didn't mean to yell, but it still happened, and Link's eyes widened for a moment before he laughed.

"Okay, I won't," he said. "I'm a little disappointed, though," he added.

"Why?" Sheik asked warily.

"Because I'd hoped to see the ducky boxers again."

He said it so calmly, so evenly, but Link's grin turned positively _evil_ as he spoke, referring to the first time he'd been to Sheik's place.

"You ass," Sheik hissed, turning away with a huff. "I knew you only wanted me for my boxers," he added with a theatrical sniff.

"How could I not?" Link said, dramatically clutching his chest. "When I first saw you wearing them, I knew this was it—that earth-shaking moment when everything falls into place. The boxers were the catalyst!"

They kept the act up for another moment or two before dissolving into giggles.

Honest to Din giggles.

"Come on," Sheik said as the laughter subsided. "Come in." He looked at Link's backpack on the floor, which was positively bulging with what appeared to be electronics. "What'd you bring?" he asked.

"Just an extra console and some games," Link said, though in his mind 'some games' apparently meant 'all of the games', as he opened the main compartment and showed a shelf's worth of cases. Sheik spotted the console logo on one of the labels and felt a little thrill.

"AS4?" he asked. He'd wanted to get his hands on one and play some of those sweet exclusives for a while now, but his budget hadn't allowed for it.

Or rather, the allocation of his budget hadn't allowed it. He'd had to prioritise those computer parts, and he always seemed to miss those sales.

"Yeah," Link confirmed, taking his shoes off and dragging the backpack further into Sheik's apartment, careful not to disturb the little single-card server clusters and numerous power- and network cable bundles that littered the floor.

Sheik had done his best to make things a little neater at his place after Link's first visit, embarrassed at his floor basically having turned into a giant plate of spaghetti, but there was only so much he could do when such a large number of cables were necessary for his digital empire to work.

Stupid, tiny student apartment...

"I heard you say you wanted to play Skyline Nix Aurora, so I figured I'd bring it along, in case we get sick of Legend of Hilda and Teddy Bear Death Racing," Link explained. "And even if we don't, I figured you could borrow it."

"But what will you play at your place if I'm borrowing it?" Sheik said, looking hopefully at the backpack, fingers already itching at the thought of playing.

"I've still got my Turn," Link said, waving a hand dismissively. "Besides, I've got a big paper coming up, so the fewer distractions at my place, the better."

"Oh...well, thank you."

"No problem," Link said, grinning at him. "You're doing me a favour, honestly."

"Well, I live to serve," Sheik said jokingly...and immediately regretted it, as the phone call came screaming back to him, killing the good mood that had been building steadily since Link's arrival. "Uh..." He cleared his throat, looking to his desk and his numerous fidget toys. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked as Link made himself busy in the living room (or the little slice of the apartment that served as Sheik's living room), getting the console ready.

"Got any soda?" Link asked, completely focused on carefully removing the console from the pack without accidentally dropping it.

"Oh, lots," Sheik said, sighing in relief as he headed for the kitchenette, quickly palming a cube from his desk on the way, trying his best to ignore the echoes of the voice on the other end of the call.

It had been...business-like. Not unpleasant in tone or the words that had been used, but it had still been a supremely uncomfortable conversation, and not only because of the subject. There was just something...off-putting about the whole thing. He supposed he should consider himself lucky it hadn't been a video call. Seeing the face to which the voice belonged would've just made the whole thing worse, Sheik suspected. He might not even have been able to ask for some time to think, if so.

His thumb desperately glided along the surface of the cube as he pulled out two glasses from his cabinet, and then a big bottle of soda from his small fridge—raspberry-flavoured. Distraction. He needed a distraction.

"H-How's your family?" he asked out of desperation, needing something to fill the silence.

"They're good," Link answered. "Dad's going out of town for a business trip, so he'll be gone for a month or so. Big contract or something. Zel's...well, you saw her last week."

"R-Right," Sheik said, wishing he could smack himself, but his hands were otherwise occupied. "Sorry."

"Are you okay?" Link asked, standing up and looking at him with concern.

"I'm good, why?" Sheik lied, pouring them both a drink as quickly as he could (ignoring how he spilled more than a few drops on his counter).

"You seem a little...jittery," Link said, coming closer and looking concerned. "Did something happen?"

"No," Sheik lied (again). "Nothing out of the ordinary. Just...you know...normal anxiety. Nervous about the date."

Link looked a little stricken at that. "Oh, I'm sorry," he exclaimed. "Was it something I did or said? This wasn't supposed to be stressful at all, and if I'm causing it—"

"It isn't," Sheik said just as loud, almost knocking over one of the glasses. "I swear! It's just...the regular stuff, you know? The overthinking you can't stop."

Link nodded slowly. He knew exactly what Sheik was talking about. "Well, let me know if there's something I can do, okay? This is supposed to be a fun night, and the last thing I want is to be the cause of it going sour."

"You won't be," Sheik said, clearing his throat and trying to pull himself together as he carefully corked the soda bottle. "I promise. It's just...me."

Link gave him a sceptical look but nodded. "Okay, but you _will_ let me know, right?"

"I will."

"Good," the Hylian said, smile returning and increasing to a beam when Sheik handed him a glass of soda. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sheik said, hesitating for a moment before sitting next to Link on the bed. The daredevil had just finished setting up the console he'd brought but had powered on Sheik's retro one instead. "Kart?" he asked.

"Kart," Link confirmed, giving him an evil little smile. "I still haven't forgotten how badly you kicked my ass last time—I want revenge."

Sheik returned the smile, though it wasn't nearly as intense as Link's. "We'll see," he said.

He'd just have to hold it in until the date was over. He'd save the thinking for later; right now he just wanted to have fun with Link.

And it actually worked.

For about ten minutes, at which point snippets of the conversation kept popping up in his head throughout the races, distracting him at the worst of times. He missed weapon pads, missed his shots...hell, he even missed a checkpoint once, forcing him to turn around and drive the wrong way for a bit. Not only was it supremely annoying, it was hugely embarrassing. He could only imagine how disappointed Link was, having such a shit opponent.

"First place!" Link whooped when he crossed the finish line, pumping his fist adorably. Sheik congratulated him through gritted teeth and crossed the finish line himself about fifteen seconds later, firmly in tenth place.

"Well done," Sheik said, clinking his glass against Link's. "I concede defeat. Quite a bad one, at that."

"You just got unlucky with the missile," Link said, gallantly trying to salvage Sheik's pride. "It hit you just as you were crossing the bridge."

And that had knocked Sheik into the abyss and delayed him severely, letting over half the other races pass him before he was airlifted back onto the track. The fact that this happened when he was so close to the finish line was just the _worst_.

"Rematch?" Link asked. "Pretty sure my lucky streak is over."

"Absolutely," Sheik replied, putting as much fake confidence as he could muster into the statement. "You're mine now."

"Always," Link replied, smiling happily.

Guh.

If Sheik wasn't distracted already, that would've done it.

They played another tournament, and Sheik actually won the first race...though it was by the skin of his teeth. Link was hit by a shrink ray just before the finish line and Sheik just happened to accidentally run him over, taking first place with less than half a second to spare. It didn't feel like a victory, honestly...and he certainly didn't get anything else afterwards.

In fact, he only did worse and worse, getting increasingly lower and lower on the list as the tournament wore on, the conversation so loud now that he could barely hear the low fidelity music and sound effects of the game. He couldn't even beat the damned AI now, which was just the absolutely biggest embarrassment a player could suffer.

Especially when Sheik had been playing this particular game for years.

You wouldn't think it, though, watching his performance now.

Link did his best to keep Sheik's mood up through the whole spectacle, making encouraging comments and excuses for Sheik's poor performance the whole time, but after Sheik's sixth consecutive humiliating defeat even his ability to bullshit was stretched too thin.

They were watching Link's second inauguration as the ultimate kart champion of the universe that night when the Hylian finally put his controller down, turned to sit cross-legged on the bed, facing Sheik with a serious expression on his face.

"Is something wrong?" he asked. No lead-up, just jumping right into it.

Sheik was a little surprised. Link usually preferred to have a little build-up before he asked a serious question.

"N-No," Sheik replied, refusing to look at him and focusing on the screen instead, where his teddy bear character was being dumped into a trash compactor along with the other losing racers. It was a pretty brutal sequence, despite the crude 3D graphics. "Why would you think that?"

Link didn't move or shift his gaze even a little, and Sheik swore he could feel it burning the side of his face.

"'Cause I've been kicking your ass at this game for the past hour," Link said. "And I _never_ kick your ass at this game."

"Lucky streak g-going strong then," Sheik said, pressing start to skip the game credits, taking them back to the tournament screen. "Another?"

"Sheik..."

Eugh. How the hell did Link know the exact tone that would tug at his guilt? He sighed and put his controller down, facing his boyfriend, mirroring his position on the bed. It must have looked a little silly, both of them in a meditation-like pose, but it was comfortable...

"Fine," he said. "You win. I'm...distracted tonight. I got some news earlier today that has me...thinking. And you know what happens when I start thinking."

Link nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?" he said. "It might help."

Sheik hesitated. Did he want to talk about it? Not really.

For one thing, it was an extremely private matter, the sort that, in the past, would have earned any outsiders accidentally finding out about it a quick death at the hands of trained assassins. Not anymore, of course, even if many of the ones involved _wished_ things were still handled in a deadly manner.

And what would happen to _him_? The clan had never tolerated information leaks, even when it came from one of their own. Again, these things weren't handled in quite the old, medieval ways in the modern times, but he doubted they'd be happy about him blabbing about their business to an outsider.

...and outsider who they...whom they'd told Sheik couldn't...wouldn't be able to...

His face grew hot and his eyes wet with frustration. Din above, he hadn't even started talking and he was about to cry. Pathetic.

"No," he finally answered, his voice tight. "I don't want to talk about it." Gods, if Link could just let this go...

"Are you sure?" Link asked.

Damn it!

"Yes."

Link frowned, searching Sheik's face for...some indication that he actually wanted to talk, maybe? He wouldn't find it, as Sheik steeled himself, fighting down the frustration and heat in his face and the wetness in his eyes. It must have worked, because the Hylian finally gave a nod.

"Okay," he said. "But let me know if you change your mind, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah," Sheik said, trying not to look too relieved.

"Mhm," Link hummed, turning his attention back to the television and the game screen. "Wanna play something else?" he asked. "Maybe an AS4 game? Skyline, maybe?"

"That'd be great," Sheik said, nodding. A less competitive game wouldn't rely on him being a hundred percent focused—it'd make it easier to hide his distraction. He could even blame mistakes on him not being familiar with the game!

Link wasn't satisfied with their talk, Sheik could tell, but he didn't say or do anything to make it clear. "We'll make a new save for you," he said, guiding them through the main menu. "Mine's at ninety-eight percent, so there'll be tons of spoilers."

"That's fine," Sheik said, actually excited about playing the game. He'd been so interested in the premise that he'd even avoided watching streams of other people playing it because he didn't want to be spoiled when he finally got to play it himself.

Skyline Nix Aurora was a beautiful game, that was for certain. Even on his tiny television it looked great, the post-apocalyptic environment coming to life in a way many other games could only dream of. The game centred around a young man's journey through the landscape, fighting off rogue robots (or hunting benign ones) that seemed to have replaced much of the normal fauna, presumably as a result of the same event that had reduced humanity to small tribes that were constantly fighting each other instead of advancing or exploring the ruins of humanity's past.

Sheik fucking loved these kinds of premises, and he could have spent hours just wandering the map and admiring the work that had gone into creating the environments...but the game had other plans, insisting he start hunting immediately.

And so Sheik did, with Link giving him helpful but not very elaborate advice, as figuring out the combat and hunting systems was very much part of the gameplay.

As it turned out, Sheik sucked at it. There were so many factors to take into account—what kind of robot he was hunting, what equipment he had on hand or could craft, whether or not he should set a trap first, or try to sneak up on the thing and get a devastating melee finisher from the get-go. And then there were the environmental factors to take into account—was it raining? Was it windy? Did the robots themselves have sensors that revealed him?

It was the sort of information juggling that was difficult enough to do when one wasn't distracted, and Sheik excelled at being the absolute worst. He did so badly he couldn't even blame it on being new to the game.

"You...drowned in the stream," Link said slowly as the game over screen taunted Sheik in fancy digital letters. "I didn't even know that was possible."

Sheik glared at the television, shame filling his very being. What kind of sadist game designer decides that programming in a way for a ragdolled character to drown in a stream that's less than three inches deep was a good use of their time?! Literally the only part of his character that touched the water was his face! Fucking bullshit, that's what this was!

"Lucky me," he forced out, hitting "Continue". "Let's try again," he said with forced cheer.

"Okay," Link said, sounding unsure. "Maybe we should take a break—"

"Nonsense," Sheik said, staring at the screen with hate. "I can do this."

"O-Okay..."

Sheik couldn't do this. There were too many things to keep track of, too many ways for a hunt to go wrong, too many little details that made it impossible to fight the robots effectively.

He died three more times in succession, and by the time he saw the game over screen for the fifth time, the words of the phone call were echoing through his skull so loudly he barely heard the sounds of the game. He was biting his lip hard, almost to the point of bleeding, and his grip on the controller was so tight the plastic was creaking.

Link noticed, and if he'd kept his mouth shut they might have been fine. But he didn't, and it was the last drop that pushed Sheik over the edge.

"Maybe a break—"

"I don't need a break!" Sheik shouted, throwing himself off the bed and dumping the controller on the floor. "Why do you keep telling me to take one?!"

Link looked surprised at the outburst; eyes wide as he looked at Sheik from his reclined position on the bed. "I just—"

"You don't think I can do it?" Sheik demanded. "You don't think I can hunt a fucking digital robot?! Like I'm some kind of fuckup?!"

"...no?" Link said, frozen. Like he didn't dare move for fear of upsetting Sheik even further. Somehow, that made it even worse. "I just think, maybe, we should play something that's not as difficult—"

"So you think I'm incompetent," Sheik said, glaring at him. "Yeah, well, maybe I am! The game sure thinks so!" He stomped across the floor, to the kitchenette, and then back, feeling like his chest was about to burst with...with something! Anger, frustration, panic, sadness, everything negative that'd been building up inside of him since his fucking phone had rung that afternoon! "That's fine! Fine!"

"Sheik, please, I didn't mean—"Link tried, but Sheik was too far gone.

He didn't even feel in control right then. Like he was just...stuck in the back of his head, watching the show with horror.

"Don't bullshit me!" he shouted, his voice so high pitched it was nearly a shriek. "You're tired of watching me die over and over in the fucking tutorial! And that's fine, I would be too! Ashamed that my boyfriend is such a pathetic fucking piece of sh—"

"Sheik! Please stop!" Link climbed out of bed (jumped, more like it) and stood in front of him. Not close enough to feel stifling, but not far enough to seem distant. "That's not what I meant, and you know it!" He reached for Sheik's hands, which had, at some point, begun to scratch at his wrists, tearing at the skin.

Sheik's body acted on its own, slapping Link's hands away. "Don't touch me!" he growled.

"Okay," Link said carefully, holding up his hands in a non-threatening manner. "I won't touch you. Just...stop hurting yourself, okay?"

"I'm not hurting myself," Sheik protested, ignoring the pain that had started to radiate from his wrists, trying not to give in to the urge to scratch more. Where the fuck was his fidget cube?

"You are," Link said slowly, gently. "And I know you're frustrated, but that's not good, okay? Please...here, take this instead."

He reached over to Sheik's desk and picked up a spinner, tossing it into Sheik's upturned palm.

He began spinning it immediately. The movement and sensation helped, and kept both of his hands occupied. This was ridiculous. He knew it was, knew that what he was accusing Link of wasn't true, but...he couldn't stop it.

"Better?" Link asked, glancing nervously at his wrists. There were little grazes on the skin that were starting to hurt but weren't deep enough to bleed. That was...good.

"...a little," Sheik said, feeling ashamed as the panic began to subside a little...only to be replaced by the anxiety of knowing he'd just fucked up his first (and probably only) relationship. What the fuck was wrong with him? He knew he shouldn't have drawn Link into this...

"Good," Link said soothingly, remaining where he was. "Thank you."

What the fuck was he thanking Sheik for?

"For what?"

"For not hurting yourself."

Sheik spun the toy in his hands for a moment, focusing on the sound, sensation, and weight of it. "I...don't. Hurt myself, I mean," he said, his heart feeling like it was rattling around in his ribcage. "This is the first time I've...I've..."

"I know you don't," Link said, nodding. "But...I think something is very wrong, and you need to talk about it."

Sheik drew a breath, but Link interrupted him before he could...do what? Start screaming again, probably.

"Not with me, though!" Link exclaimed. "Not if you don't want to. But _someone_. A therapist, or family, you know? Paya or Kafei, or y-your aunt. Unless this is about, you know, her moving here? Breathing down your neck?"

Sheik collected himself, shaking his head. "I can't," he said.

"What?"

"I can't talk to _them_ about this," Sheik elaborated, glaring at Link.

"Why not?"

"Because it's...it's clan business, okay? I'm not...I'm not allowed to talk about it with someone it doesn't strictly concern!"

Link blinked in confusion. "And...this involves your family?"

Sheik sighed, closing his eyes and wishing he was anywhere but here. The darkness of oblivion was his preferred location at the moment.

"Yeah," he said. Link deserved to know as much. "It does."

Link looked even more confused. "It involves them, but you're not allowed to talk to them about it?"

Sheik gave a frustrated keen. "I never said it makes sense!"

"Okay, I'm sorry," Link said, nodding. "I'm very sorry, okay? I won't prod." He took a few steps back and sat down on the bed, patting the spot next to him. "Want to sit down?"

Sheik didn't, but he did anyway, if only to avoid that puppy-look on Link's face. He sat down on the mattress, a few inches separating them. They sat together for a little while, the silence only broken by the game's pause music. Sheik wanted to kick the television screen in, but kept his attention focused on the spinner.

Next to him, Link shifted, his eyes looking Sheik up and down. Usually that made Sheik feel excited, but now it was just...tiring. Then, a sound. Link hissed.

"Hang on," the Hylian said, standing up and heading for the door.

That's it, Sheik thought. He's leaving. Getting the hell out before it's too late. Smart move, especially if I end up accepting since we can't be—

Link didn't head for the door at all, but for the bathroom, disappearing inside. Sheik heard the creak of his mirror opening up, Link fumbling around in there. He quickly came back out, carrying a small, bright orange cloth bag.

Sheik's first aid kit.

"You're bleeding," Link said, kneeling in front of Sheik.

"What?" Sheik said, confused, looking down at his wrists. "I'm not...oh..."

It wasn't much. Not the sort of wound one usually panicked about, but there were tiny beads of blood on Sheik's left wrist, where his nails had gouged just a little too deep.

"That's nothing," he said weakly, feeling a little nauseous at the sight of it. He had never lost control that badly before...had never made himself bleed.

"It's not _bad_," Link said, unzipping the bag and pulling out a small bottle of disinfectant and a long strip of adhesive bandage. "But you did that with your fingernails, and...well, you know...bacteria and all that." He paused, looking up at Sheik. "May I?" he asked.

What are you doing? Sheik wondered. Why haven't you left? You just saw me freak out over nothing, over a fucking phone call, and you're sticking around? What's wrong with you?

He found himself nodding quietly, though, watching as Link worked quickly.

"This is going to hurt a bit," Link warned him before applying the disinfectant, cleaning the little wound thoroughly. It hurt, but the pain felt a little grounding, so Sheik focused on that. Then Link applied the adhesive bandage, making sure to cover every little bit.

His hands were so gentle while he did this, like he was working on something precious. When he was finished with the part of his wrist that had bled, Link took a moment to inspect the other scratches as well.

"No bleeding," he murmured, leaning forward, kissing the skin above his wrist.

Sheik couldn't hold it in any longer. His eyes grew wet, and he felt the tears run down his cheeks, his breaths coming out as ragged hiccups.

"Sheik..." Link looked up at him, stricken.

"I'm s-sorry," Sheik gasped. "I'm sorry!"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Link said, rubbing his arm. "There's nothing to be sorry for."

"I y-yelled at you—"

"I was pushing when I shouldn't have," Link said quickly. "I should've known better. _I'm_ sorry."

Link's apology only made Sheik feel worse, and more tears joined the ones already turning his face into a swollen, gross mess.

"I d-don't d-deserve this...your...kindness..."

"Yes, you do," Link said firmly. "You do deserve this, because you're wonderful, and my favourite person." He stood up, hesitating. "Can I touch you?" he asked.

"Y-You already are," Sheik pointed out, apparently still feeling the need to be an asshole even in this state.

"Heh, true," Link said, giving him a little grin. "I was thinking _more_, though. Like...can I hug you? Actually, I have a better idea, if you'll let me?"

Sheik wasn't sure what he meant but nodded. He trusted Link.

Link sat down next to Sheik on the bed, but scooted back and laid down along the bed's length, on his side, facing Sheik. He then touched Sheik's arm, carefully coaxing him into doing the same, his back to Link. Link then wrapped his arm around Sheik's chest and pulled him back until his back were flush against Link's front.

"This okay?" Link asked quietly into Sheik's ear.

"Y-Yeah," Sheik replied, somehow feeling a lot more soothed, lying like this. Link was bigger than him, and stronger. And while Sheik was far from defenceless thanks to years of martial arts training, he felt...safe, like this.

He wiped his tears on his duvet, glad he was turned away from Link so the Hylian wouldn't have to look at his blotchy, disgusting crying face. Some tough Sheikah he was.

"I like this," Link said, his voice reverberating in his chest to the point Sheik could feel it at his back. "Remember the first time we did this?"

Sheik did. "F-First time you came here," he said. "With your laptop."

His throat hurt, rough from screaming and crying.

"Yeah," Link said, chuckling. "It's still working great after that night, you know. You really saved me."

Sheik huffed. "I didn't do much—"

"Please, you did a full restore job," Link interrupted. "And if you hadn't, I'd have failed that assignment. So, the job itself may not have been particularly big or complicated, but it still meant the world to me. So thank you for that," Link finished, kissing Sheik's neck, which sent shivers down his spine.

Gods, how had Sheik lucked out and ended up with someone so sweet? And how did he keep fucking up so badly, like he was trying to see how much it would take to drive Link away?

He didn't want to. He wanted to be with Link for...for as long as he could.

And maybe that's why he started talking.

"I g-got a call, earlier today," he said, taking Link's hand into both of his, running his fingertips along the slightly rough skin of Link's. His spinner had disappeared somewhere, and he needed something to do with his hands. "It was from someone I haven't talked to in years."

Link hummed, but he didn't say anything. He did pull Sheik to him a little tighter, though, in a silent request to continue.

"It was from Elder Anante," Sheik continued, glad for the lack of interruption. "He...he told me that the council of elders—that's the clan council—have started the process of choosing the new clan leader."

Link hummed again. "I thought your aunt was the clan leader," he said.

"She is," Sheik confirmed. "Or...was. I...I don't really know the details, but apparently this relocation of hers wasn't sanctioned by the council, and supposedly this is the last in a long line of offences and broken rules."

Link didn't say anything, silently urging him to continue.

"So...in essence, she's out," Sheik said. "And...they want me to take her place."

That got a reaction of Link, his breath catching in his throat. "R-Really?" he asked.

"Yeah..."

"Is...that a bad thing?" Link asked. "I mean, you were going to be clan leader anyway at some point, right? Sheikah prince, and all that."

"Yeah, but...I wasn't expecting it for at least another few decades, maybe more," Sheik said, steeling himself for what came next. "But Impa forced their hand, and now I'm next in line. Problem is...if I accept...I have to move back home. That's where our ancestral seat is, and where I'm expected to be when I take the position."

"Oh..." Link clearly wasn't happy about that. "Like...right away?"

"Immediately, yes," Sheik said. "There is a very elaborate ceremony, and my work starts right away. I won't even have time to finish my degree."

"I see...but..." Link drew a deep breath. "It's not like it'd be the end of the world, right?" he said. "I mean, I'm not too far off finishing mine, and then I could, I don't know, move so I can be closer—"

"Link," Sheik interrupted gently, squeezing his hand. "I'm...if I take the position, I can't...I won't be allowed to..." he trailed off, trying again. "I'll be expected to marry, as soon as possible, and produce an heir. Several, preferably."

"Ah...that's...uh...very traditional," Link said, clearly trying not to panic, but the tremor in his voice, not to mention the beat of his heart at Sheik's back gave him away. "Is...I thought that was..."

"Old-fashioned," Sheik said. "Yeah. The elders don't care much for...progress, as such."

"Huh," Link grunted. "And...uh...are you...I mean, do you want to...?"

"I...don't know," Sheik replied, revealing the crux of this whole matter. "I feel...I can't decide. I feel torn. They keep saying I'll be able to make changes, that this is what I was born to do, that it's what my parents wanted for me and...they're right. I _can_ make changes, but not without..."

"Losing...things," Link finished.

"Things I don't want to give up," Sheik confirmed. "So...that's why I'm...like this. Tonight. I'm sorry, I ruined our date—"

"You didn't ruin anything," Link said firmly.

Sheik couldn't help but snort. "Link..."

"...fine, you kinda ruined the date, but I like to think I salvaged it a little," Link corrected himself. "And...well, I'm glad you told me. Thank you for trusting me with it. I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"...thank you."

They lay like that for a while, neither of them speaking. Link was digesting what he'd just been told, and Sheik was...replaying the conversation with Elder Anante in his head. He'd known it'd be trouble the moment he heard the old man's voice. It had a dry, paper-like quality to it, which was only worsened by the slight digital distortion over the phone.

"Can I make a suggestion?" Link asked suddenly.

Sheik sighed. "Go ahead, but if it involves moving off the bed right now, I'll say no."

Link chuckled. "It won't," he said. "I just...I think you should talk to your aunt about this."

"I can't—"

"Break the rules? You kinda just did by telling me," Link said, and Sheik could _hear_ shit-eating grin on his face. "And if anyone can give you a perspective on what being clan leader means, it's her, right?"

"I suppose..." Sheik conceded. Anante had specifically told him not to tell Impa about this, for fear that she would lie to him in order to dissuade him from accepting the position but...now that he thought about it, that just wasn't Impa.

She wouldn't hesitate to tell him about all the negative aspects of being the clan leader (and there had to be plenty, if she'd hated it enough to more or less run away), but she'd never _lie_ about them. Lies and deceit were reserved for outsiders and enemies, not for family, and Impa had certainly refused to even consider lying to any of the kids she raised.

But she'd also tell him about the positive aspects, if only so he'd have as much information as possible to work with in order to make a decision, surely? She never hesitated to do so about other matters...

"Just think about it?" Link suggested.

"I will," Sheik said. "Can I...what do you think?" he asked.

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"About you...leaving?"

"...yeah."

"My answer won't be objective," Link said. "Because of course I'd want you to stay. With me. Finish your degree..."

"Hm," Sheik hummed.

"But...ultimately, I think you should do what _you_ want, and I think the best way to find out what that is, you should—"

"Talk to Impa," Sheik finished for him, nodding. "I get it."

"I'm useless, I know," Link said with a small laugh. "I'm generally not the guy you come to for life advice. I just make things worse—"

"That's not true," Sheik interrupted. "You helped me a lot tonight. Physically _and_ mentally." He yawned, feeling exhausted. "And...you _are_ right. I need to talk to Impa. Tomorrow, maybe."

"Want me to come with?" Link asked.

Sheik imagined Link trying to attend a meeting about inner clan secrets and procedures between Sheik and Impa. It ended bloodily and messily, and with a missing poster of Link posted all over town.

No, Impa would never allow it.

"I like you alive," Sheik muttered.

"What?"

"You can't," Sheik said, clearing his throat. "It's...secret, you know? Traditional? Not for outsiders. Even what I told you right now is something you shouldn't know."

"I see," Link said, nodding and kissing his neck again. "I'll stay out of it, then. Will you call me after, though? Let me know how it went?"

"Sure."

Sheik closed his eyes, enjoying the closeness between them for a moment. Half the reason he'd been so anxious about this all was the thought of losing Link. How the elders had found out about the two of them to begin with, he had no idea, but Anante had specifically told him he'd have to break it off with Link if he accepted the position, that no clan leader would degrade themselves with such a coupling.

"So," Link said, once more breaking the silence, "now that we've got the date back on track...what do you want to do now? Which game do you want to play?"

Sheik thought about it for a moment before turning around in Link's hold, so they were face to face.

"Right now," he said, "all I want to do...is this." He kissed Link, maybe a little too aggressively, pressing his lips against the Hylian's with more force than strictly necessary. Link didn't seem to mind, though, based on his moan.

"I'm fine with that," Link said with a silly grin as they separated for a moment, only for him to dive back into it.

The rest of the date went quite smoothly. After a while of kissing, they went to playing games...and Sheik retook his rightful place as Ultimate Champion of the Universe, leaving Link's character smeared across the asphalt time and time again.

Balance was restored.

* * *

The bell buzzed for a good ten seconds before there was a click, and Impa's distorted voice emanated from the speaker.

_"Yes?"_

Gods, even separated by an electronic speaker and several floors, she was intimidating. Sheik cleared his throat.

"I-It's me, aunt," he spoke into the microphone.

_"You're early,"_ Impa noted. Her tone was strict as usual. _"Come on up."_

There was another buzz, and the glass doors slid open, letting Sheik into the building's lobby. He still wasn't sure how to describe the place, stuck somewhere between traditional and modern, with mostly dark wood panels and golden trims. A bit gaudy, if he were completely honest. The floor was covered in black marble tiles, and an imposing-looking security guard in a black suit was sitting behind a large desk in the corner.

He gave Sheik a nod in greeting, but otherwise did nothing, remaining where he sat.

It was the same guy Sheik had seen a couple of times already, and he still wasn't sure of the etiquette here. Was he supposed to greet the guy by name, or do that snobby thing where he only barely acknowledges the guard's presence?

He wasn't sure, but at the moment he found he didn't really care. He had other things to worry about. He returned the nod and headed for the elevators, pushing the top floor button.

He watched the floor counter with trepidation as the elevator rose, leaving his stomach down on the ground floor. He leaned against the metal railing, taking deep breaths and counting mentally. He had no less than three fidget cubes in his pockets, to make sure he didn't accidentally start scratching himself like he had the night before.

Gods, what a disaster that had been. Sheik was eternally grateful for Link being so patient with him, not letting a thing like his boyfriend suddenly exploding and screaming at him over nothing get in the way of their date.

Too soon, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open, letting him step off. The hallway was decorated the same way as the one on the ground floor, and Sheik followed it until he reached the door with the correct number, ringing the bell.

"Enter!" Impa's voice called from somewhere inside the apartment, audible even through the thick door. Sheik swallowed, and opened the door, stepping inside.

Sheik had always known that Impa had money, and no small amount of it, but he didn't truly realise how rich she was until she'd invited him, Kafei, and Paya to her new apartment a few weeks before.

For one thing, it was a huge. There were at least three bedrooms, two of them with their own en suite bathrooms. The living room was positively cavernous, with several sitting groups and a huge fireplace taking up most of the inner wall. The wall at the other end was mostly glass, giving the occupant a spectacular view of the city skyline. A third wall was covered in wall scrolls and other pieces of Sheikah artwork, while the fourth and last wall housed Impa's extensive collection of knives and other bladed weapons. If Sheik knew her right, she'd use it as a prop to scare the shit out of Link, Zelda, and Elenwe if they were ever allowed inside the apartment.

The kitchen wouldn't have been out of place in a huge restaurant, crammed full of top of the line equipment.

Impa had even turned one room into a dojo, with tatami mats and sliding doors and everything.

"Every home needs a proper dojo," she'd said upon their surprised reactions.

The only room that wasn't bigger than Sheik's entire apartment in itself was Impa's study, which, while not cramped, was surprisingly small, fitting only a desk, a chair, and about three shelves full of papers and books, most of them dry and boring textbooks. She hadn't let them look too closely at that room, but Sheik _had_ spotted the picture frames on the desk. They were full of pictures of Sheik, Kafei, and Paya, as well as other family members, including Sheik's parents.

The apartment opened into the living room, and Sheik found himself standing awkwardly in the entrance for a minute, not spotting his aunt anywhere in the huge room.

"Kitchen!" Impa called out, her voice bloody _echoing_ throughout the apartment.

Sheik took his shoes and coat off, leaving them on the tiled area near the door and stepping onto the hardwood floor of the living room, making his way to the kitchen, where he found Impa standing at one of the multiple islands...making sandwiches.

It looked positively comical, given how little of the available space she was using, and the simplicity of what she was preparing.

"You're early," Impa repeated, not looking up at him, completely focused on arranging the sandwiches carefully. She was wearing another pantsuit, similar to the one she'd worn at Zelda's Christmas party, though this one was a deep purple in colour, with lighter blue accents. Evidently, her idea of a leisurely outfit. "Tea's not quite ready yet," she added, and Sheik spotted a kettle on the stove.

"Sorry," he said. "Bus arrived quicker than I thought."

Impa did pause at that, looking up at him. "I thought you were taking a taxi?" she said. "I told you I'd cover it."

"Oh, uh..." Sheik trailed off, not sure if he dared tell his aunt that he always felt supremely uncomfortable taking a taxi by himself. Especially if he got a driver who liked to talk.

She must've understood, though, because she nodded after staring at him for a minute.

"You're taking a taxi back, though," she said firmly, not leaving him any room to argue. "I'll pay them in advance."

"That's not necessary—"Sheik tried, despite knowing the futility of it.

"Taxi," Impa repeated firmly.

And that was the end of that discussion. Sheik nodded.

"Is there something I can do to help?" he asked, feeling absolutely useless. Not that he was much of a wizard in the kitchen, but he felt weird not doing anything at all.

"Yes, there is," Impa said, gesturing to one of the bar stools by the island. "You can sit down."

Sheik did so, watching Impa continue to put her finishing touches on the food, resting his hands on the cool countertop. Mistake, as the sleeve of his sweater rode up, exposing the bandage on his wrist. He pulled it down quickly, but it was too late.

"What happened?" she asked, starting put the sandwich supplies away. There were so many drawers on the island, and it swallowed everything save for the stuff that had to be refrigerated.

"Nothing," Sheik replied.

"Do I have to contact Mister Hyrule?" Impa said. "Ask him what happened last night?"

Of course she'd known about their date, somehow. Gods, if that didn't scare Link away, he'd officially be the bravest man in the world.

"I had...an episode yesterday," Sheik said, trying to sound neutral. "Scratched myself on something. Link cleaned it up for me."

Sheik wasn't sure, but he could've sworn he saw the corner of his aunt's eye twitch.

"Scratched yourself?" she asked. "Doing what?"

"Panicking?" he said.

"What did he do?" she asked firmly, her hand creeping closer to the bread knife.

"Link didn't do anything," Sheik protested. "I was all me. The panic, the scratching, everything. He helped me through it."

"Hmph, if you say so," Impa conceded, tossing the knife into her dishwasher. Just as she did so, the kettle began to whine. "Ah, finally. Please take the sandwiches into the living room, Sheik," she said. "We'll eat by the fireplace."

He did so, carefully putting the tray of sandwiches down on the table at the sitting group nearest the fireplace. The furniture here wasn't quite as modern and minimalist as many of the other chairs and sofas in the living room, the upholstery softer and more comfortable. The fire was roaring, fed by a gas line, heating the area up considerably.

Impa arrived soon after, carrying another tray with the tea. There was a tiny jug of milk, just for him. He watched her pour the tea and added the milk to his own cup.

"Uh," he said. "About why I'm here—"

"Eat first," she said. "We'll talk about it afterwards."

Lunch was a quiet affair. For some, it might have been awkward and intimidating, but for Sheik it was normal. Comforting, even. It reminded him of home, his childhood, growing up with Kafei and Paya. Mealtimes were little islands of quiet in the otherwise chaotic sea that was life.

Sheik focused on his food. Club sandwiches with bacon. One of his favourites. The bacon was cooked to perfection, just the right amount of crispy and chewy. She'd made it just for him, Sheik knew. Impa never really ate this sort of thing on her own. She must've realised something was up...after all, he'd called her up out of nowhere that morning, asking if they could talk.

She hadn't even had think about it before saying yes, telling him to come for lunch.

Never mind that it was a weekday and she probably had...things to do. Whatever they were. Sheik still wasn't entirely sure how she made her money. If she'd actually made them herself, or if she just lived on the clan's funds.

If the latter, she was in for a rude surprise soon.

The food was delicious, and the tea even better. Sheik didn't know how she did it, but Impa's tea was the absolute best he'd ever tasted. The one he made himself wasn't even close to as good. Only Paya had managed to somewhat emulate Impa's tea, but even then it still lacked something.

Impa had made a lot of food and tea, but they finished it all together. Sheik leaned back in his seat, feeling full and content. He tried to hold on to the feeling, because he knew what was coming next, and how awful it'd be.

"Is there anything else you'd like, nephew?" Impa said, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. "I have some cake. Strawberry shortcake, in fact."

Another of his favourites, and definitely not something she kept around for the hell of it. She must have gone out (or ordered in) for the cake the second they'd ended the call.

"Maybe later," he said. "But thank you. I'd just...rather get this out of the way."

"Very well," she replied, putting her napkin down and finishing her tea. She then turned her attention fully to Sheik, nodding. "What is it you wanted to speak to me about?"

How to start?

_From the beginning, you idiot_, his brain supplied helpfully.

"I...er...I got a call yesterday," he began after a few false starts, his throat suddenly dry. "From Elder Anante."

Anyone who didn't know his aunt well wouldn't have noticed, but Sheik saw the minute stiffening of her body, the tiny curl of distaste on her lips. She knew Elder Anante well, since he was the council spokesperson, and the one who'd had the most regular contact with Impa.

"Is that so?" she asked, her voice utterly neutral. "And what did he want?"

Fuck, why was this so difficult? Maybe because he had no idea how Impa would react to effectively being ousted from a position she'd held for the last two decades. Sure, she hadn't liked it very much, but it's still a major change. It would be for anyone.

"He said that...that they have started the clan leader election process," he said, tension growing worse and worse in his shoulders until he swore he could feel them touching his ears. "And that I'm their first choice."

He wasn't sure what he'd expected in terms of a reaction from Impa. An explosion of anger was out of the question, because Impa just didn't wasn't the sort of person to have those...at least not where anyone could see or hear him (the Christmas party didn't count because Impa had finished an entire bottle of scotch by herself). He certainly didn't expect her to just nod sagely.

"I was expecting this," she said. "Just not so soon. Means they must have been planning it for a while."

Sheik's eyes widened. "You knew?" he asked.

"I suspected," she said. "I assumed they'd start the process after I moved here, but if they're contacting you already, then they must have started it three months ago at the latest, possibly even earlier. It's a lengthy process, with many requirements to fulfil." She huffed. "Hah, sneaky Anante."

Sheik was so confused. "Aunt, if you knew this would happen...why didn't you tell me?"

"I assumed I'd have more time, to break the news to you in a less...direct manner, but it seems the council had other ideas," she said, shrugging.

"But...why me?"

Now Impa looked a little surprised. "It's only natural," she said. "You're my closest blood relative, after all. Our family has held the clan leadership for centuries—the elders definitely wish to keep that tradition alive. You knew this, though."

"Y-Yeah, but I...didn't expect it so soon. Thought they'd maybe...choose someone else in the meantime, if something h-happened to you." Sheik felt less and less sure as he spoke. "I thought...maybe..."

"That you would never have to worry about it," Impa finished for him.

He nodded quietly.

"That's what I thought, once," Impa said. "I was very wrong." She sighed, standing up. "Wait here," she told him, heading for the kitchen, returning with a bottle of scotch and a pair of glasses, pouring them both a healthy serving. "Go on, drink," she said.

"I'm technically still underage," he said, staring dubiously at the dark liquid in the glass.

"True, but that didn't stop you from drinking at the Christmas party," she pointed out.

Or you, Sheik wanted to say, but that was the quickest way to his own grave, most likely.

So he took a sip. And hated it immediately. Bitter and awful, and it burned terribly in the back of his throat.

"Another," Impa urged him. He obeyed. He didn't understand how people could drink this for the taste...but he couldn't deny the warmth spreading in the pit of his belly after his second sip. "What do you think?" she asked.

"Awful," Sheik said, coughing.

Impa grinned—an expression that usually meant trouble, but now simply looked impish.

"Ah, you still have an unrefined palate," she said, holding up the glass and studying the liquid in it, watching the flickering flames through it.

"I was twenty-five when I was made clan leader," she said. "Your parents had just passed away, and in the case of a clan leader's death, the process is expedited to ensure the nearest blood relative takes the position as quickly as possible. You were too young—barely even born—to take the position, naturally, so it automatically fell to me. I wasn't paying too much attention at the time, to be honest. I'd been out travelling for a while when I received the news, and when I was told the position was mine, I was too deep in my grief to care. I also suddenly had a child to take care of, which took up a great deal of my time. I simply went along with council's wishes, so they'd get off my back and I could focus on what was important: you."

Sheik listened intently. Impa never talked much about this time of her life, other than in the barest minimum of details. He had no idea what she'd been doing before his parents died, especially not that she'd been...travelling? He'd always assumed she'd spent all her time with the clan, sticking to tradition.

"What were you travelling for?" he asked, trying not to focus too much on his parents' death. It was a story he'd heard so many times. Drunk driver hit their car and ran them off the road. An accident, and so fucking pointless.

"Pleasure, for the most part," Impa said, sipping her scotch. "Your mother and I had a very sheltered upbringing. The previous clan leader—your maternal grandfather—had a very isolationist mindset and had been extremely leery of letting us interact with the outside world, but when your mother took the clan leadership, she made a lot of changes. Changes that weren't very popular with the council, but she never did have much patience for them to begin with." She chuckled a little. "And the first thing she did was to tell me to get out, to see the world. And I did. I spent the next couple of years out there, doing everything I felt like. I checked in with Iana many times, of course, especially after she got pregnant, but I was too far away to make it back when she had you." She sighed. "My biggest regret."

Sheik wasn't sure what to do, so he took another sip of his drink.

"I'm sure she understood," he said. He'd never known his mother, but everyone who did had always described her as the kindest, most patient woman they'd ever met. His father had been a bit hot-headed, but also just as kind. His mother had kept him in line, apparently, for the most part.

Impa snorted, a most un-Impa-like thing. She was near the bottom of her glass already.

"She would have," she said. "Your mother was the very definition of patience and understanding. I only saw her angry once or twice, and it was always terrifying."

"Just like someone else I know," Sheik said, immediately horrified at what he'd just said. You didn't joke around Impa. Especially not _about_ Impa.

"Hm, well, our tempers were very much the same, or so I've been told," Impa muttered into her glass. She realised she was empty, and poured herself another, offering to top up Sheik's, but he politely declined. "You take after her the most, you know."

"I have a long fuse?" he said.

"Among other things," Impa said, nodding.

Other things? What did that...oh. Sheik questioningly tapped his temple, to which Impa nodded.

"Runs in the family," she said.

Oh...Sheik had no idea.

"Your father, on the other hand," she continued, "didn't have much of a fuse at all, which was always hilarious when the smallest thing set him off, but his anger was the explosive kind that was over as quick as it had started. And your mother always managed to soothe him. They were...a good couple, heh. The arguments they'd have with the council sometimes...it's a wonder the room was still standing at times."

Sheik smiled a little. Impa sounded so fond of them.

Impa sighed again. "Ah, but you didn't come here to talk about your parents." She looked at him. "So? Have you given it any thought? Since you're here and not on a plane heading back west, I assume you asked for time to consider it?"

"Y-Yeah," he said, having honestly forgotten what he'd originally come here for, too caught up in Impa's story. "I have."

"And?"

"I'm...still not sure," he admitted.

"Do you want my advice?"

"Please."

"Don't accept."

A not entirely unexpected answer, Sheik had to admit. "Why shouldn't I?" he asked.

"The loss of freedom, for one thing," she replied immediately. "Once you're the clan leader, you'll be spending the rest of your time under the council's thumb. You're the leader, but every decision you make has go be approved by the council, and they're usually united against you, _especially_ if you're trying to make changes to long-standing traditions." She shook her head and tossed back her drink. "In my twenty years as clan leader, do you know how many clan laws or traditions I've been able to change?"

Sheik shook his head. "I don't."

"I don't have an exact count," she admitted, "but it's less than twenty. And even those changes were miniscule thanks to the council's steadfast refusal to accept them. They're the result of weeks and months of negotiations, of me outright begging them to be more lenient."

Impa begging anyone for anything was impossible to imagine. Sheik's mind just refused to conjure up the image.

"For example, it took me about a full year of negotiation to finally convince them to let you move here for school," she said. "And even then they only relented because I convinced Kafei and Paya to go with you. That part wasn't very difficult, though."

"What?" Sheik said. "You had to convince them?"

He knew that Kafei and Paya weren't studying at the same school as him because they necessarily had the best curriculums for the respective fields, but he'd at least assumed (or hoped) that they were there entirely of their own volition. Had Sheik ruined their future plans by picking this specific university?

Impa must have read his mind, though, because she shook her head.

"They were happy to follow you wherever you went," she said. "Even before I asked them, Paya mentioned she'd like to make sure she went to the same school as you, to keep you company." She smiled a little. "Your cousins are good people, Sheik. But they're not so good as to selflessly go along with my wishes if they absolutely did not want to. So do not doubt that they're here because they want to be."

"I see..."

"Anyway, like I said, if you choose to accept, be prepared to spend much of your life arguing with a bunch of mummies for why a clan member should be allowed to marry the love of their life, even if they're an outsider."

Sheik wondered who she'd argued in favour of.

"Cousin Yui," Impa supplied. "_My_ cousin Yui," she appended. "She found a Zora man she particularly liked, but the council wouldn't stand for it. Six months of intense negotiations just to allow them to date—that poor man had the patience of a saint. Imagine the hell that broke loose when they found out about Kafei's proposal to Elenwe." She poured herself another. Sheik wondered if he was about to see a repeat of the Christmas Party. "I never did manage to settle _that_ discussion. That'll be your job, if you accept the position."

That, he hadn't expected. "They're still arguing about it?" he asked.

Impa nodded. "Some even called for Kafei to be expelled from the clan for the audacity of his proposal. I made it absolutely clear that wasn't going to happen, though."

"Does he know?"

"I told him the moment the news reached them—not through me, mind you. I didn't feel it was anyone's business than his own, but the council disagreed. He knows exactly how they feel about this, and he has made his own position quite clear."

"...which is?"

Impa grinned imp-like again. "He told them to shove it up their geriatric asses."

Sheik laughed out loud. He couldn't help it. That was Kafei to a tee, with a smattering of Elenwe. He'd had no idea about the whole thing with Elenwe, though. He'd certainly never told Sheik about it. Probably to protect him, or something silly like that. He'd kick Kafei's ass for that later.

"So that's some of the fun you have to look forward to as clan leader," Impa said. "And then there's the, er, _personal_ expectations they'll have of you. Most of them include how to dress, how to act, how to speak, how to generally comport yourself both internally and externally. There'll be a never-ending list of things you need to make a habit, not to mention the habits you need to _unlearn_."

Sheik tossed back his drink, and Impa wordlessly filled him up again.

"And finally, and probably the thing that will be the biggest problem for you, at least at this time," Impa said, "is your man. Or rather, having to give him up."

Sheik almost choked on his drink. He hadn't expected her to just jump into that subject with no preparation.

"Anante...mentioned that," he said, staring firmly at the lacquered surface of the table.

"Oh, I certainly imagine he did," Impa huffed. "Probably with no small amount of glee. He still lives in the last century, when homosexuality didn't exist...or so he believes. The man's a relic of a past that never happened." She fixed Sheik with a look. "Make no mistake, nephew. If you accept, they will hound you until you've found yourself a wife and gotten her good and pregnant. They tried that with me for a while, but I gave them a firm no. If I were to marry, it'd be on my own volition. They only eventually accepted it once they remembered that they had a bloodline heir in you, so they left me alone on that matter."

...the thought of giving up Link just because of tradition was horrifying, but for some reason all Sheik could wonder about at that moment was whether or not Impa had ever been with...anyone. The very thought horrified him.

"I believe that sums up the worst of the negative aspects," his aunt finished with another huff. "I suppose I should also mention some positives." She needed a long moment to actually come up with any, apparently. "Well, I suppose if you manage to hold out through it all, you get a chance to help shape the younger generation of the clan. A worthwhile thing, I'd say...but also...well, there's no point in hiding it, I suppose. The younger generation have started to turn away from our traditions, in some cases abandoning the clan altogether. Not to join the _Yiga_," she spat the name with some venom, "but just...turn away from the Sheikah way of life entirely. And that has the elders nervous."

"...and why they want me so badly," Sheik said, already onto her line of thought.

"Young leaders appeal to the young demographic," Impa said, giving him a pleased smile. "They believe you'll be able to convince the ones who are grumbling to stay, and possibly even draw some of those who've left back into the fold."

"I wouldn't even know how to start."

"They'd do most of the work for you, in that regard. They'll put you front and centre, as a figurehead, and maybe let you have a few easy victories at first to convince the young ones that the clan is heading in a new direction...only for the council to go back to their old ways as soon as they've secured their hold on you."

Sheik looked at her, at the frown on her face. "You make it sound like they're diabolical political masterminds," he said.

"How do you think their families have remained on the council for so long?" she asked. "This is literally what they've been born and trained to do for generations. I came to realise that very early into my stint as clan leader, and as much as I tried, I also realised things would never change as long as they are in control. They will keep the clan steeped in the old ways until everyone chokes on them. The clan's destruction won't come from the outside, but the inside. From the rot that festers."

Okay, Impa was definitely drunk now. It made her even more frank and direct than usual. Sheik wasn't exactly sober himself, three glasses into it all.

"Is that why you resigned?" he asked.

"Resigned?" Impa said. "Nephew, I didn't resign. I buried a knife in the council table and told them all to fuck off. I might also have said so loudly enough for the entire compound to hear. Then I made arrangements and moved east." She leaned forward in her seat, tapping her fingers on the table. "And while their suffocating presence was a large factor in why I left, the main reason I moved here is a lot simpler."

"And that is?"

"I wanted to be closer to you, Paya, and Kafei," she said. "My family."

Sheik looked at her stunned, which she must have misinterpreted.

"I can only assume what sort of theories the three of you have created between yourselves about the reason for my presence here, that I'm probably here to keep an eye on you, to make sure you don't do something stupid and...well, in Kafei's case that's also slightly true, but other than that...no. I just wanted to be able to see you, which is far easier when I live in the same city as opposed to on the opposite side of the continent."

"I...er..."

He didn't have the words.

"I suppose you could even say," Impa said, looking anywhere but into his eyes, suddenly finding her drink infinitely fascinating, "that I...er...love you, to some extent. All of you."

Silence reigned in the apartment for a long time after that. Sheik tried to digest what he'd just been told, while Impa seemed to silently pray for it all to have been some sort of fever dream. What could he say to that?

Only one thing, really.

"I love you too," he said, his eyes growing wet again for the second time in two days.

He could've sworn that her eyes had a slightly wet sheen to them as well, but she blinked and took another big drink before he could make sure.

"Now," she said, "that's enough soft stuff for now. Has this conversation helped you make a decision?"

"I think so," Sheik said, nodding. "Thank you."

She frowned. "You won't tell me what it is?"

"Just need to...settle the thought."

"That is fair," she said, rising from her chair. "I don't know about you, but I need some damned cake. I'll be right back."

A thought occurred, and it made a jolt travel through Sheik's whole body, and he acted almost automatically.

"Impa," he said, halting her in her tracks. "We love you. All of us. You're...the mother we never had."

Impa coughed theatrically.

"Now why would you say something silly like that, boy?" she said, keeping her gaze on the large windows. "Without provocation and everything."

"It's the truth," he said.

"Yes, well..." she trailed off, coughing again. "You're my kids. I should hope you all love me. And...the feeling is mutual. Now, cake!"

* * *

They ate the whole thing. And finished the scotch.

The day after, Sheik woke up in Impa's guest room to a headache from hell and a phone that had exploded with text messages and voicemails, all from various cousins and clan members he hadn't heard from in years.

_"Hey Sheik, it's been a while,"_ one voicemail began, the voice of a Sheikah he was pretty sure wasn't related to him at all, but had spent some time with as a kid, said. _"Just heard the news. Is it true that you told the whole council to suck a horse cock? And asked how many bananas they deepthroat on a weekly basis? That's so fucking awesome—"_

Sheik cut it off before he could hear anything more, and then with some trepidation checked his phone's history. No call had been made to Anante or any other council member since Anante had contacted Sheik the first time, so...

Oh.

Oh no.

"The conference system," Impa said, sitting as motionless as possible in the kitchen, wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. Her hair was a little dishevelled, but other than that, the sunglasses, and her stiff demeanour, there was no indication that she and Sheik had gotten uproariously drunk the day before. Well, that and the death-grip she had on a glass of water on the counter in front of her. "Using the right call code, you can connect to the compound's speaker system."

Sheik had put his head against the cool counter. "You don't say," he muttered.

"The history doesn't lie, nephew," Impa said, sliding her phone across the counter. Sheik saw a number he vaguely recognised as the compound's central line, along with a set of numbers he knew would connect to some system or other. "It would appear we had a little fun last night. It also appears I have more than a few ruffled feathers to soothe, if my incoming call history is anything to judge by. On the brighter side of things, it would seem you've definitely made your decision clear. For what it's worth, nephew, I'm proud of you."

"Appreciate it," Sheik muttered again, finding it very difficult to care about that right now, since his head was about to explode.

"Also, your cousins are on their way here," Impa added. "They've heard the news as well."

"Oh, good."

"Kafei wouldn't stop laughing on the phone."

"I've no doubt."

"I should order more cake."

His stomach threatened to rebel right then and there.

"Please, no," he whined.

"Now there's something you'll miss the opportunity to develop when turning down the clan leadership," Impa said, grinning evilly at him. "Alcohol tolerance."

"Can do without it."

"Just as well," Impa said. "It's a long and uncomfortable process anyway."

Relinquishing her hold on the water glass and standing up, she walked around the island to stop in front of Sheik, touching his shoulder to make him straighten his back and look up at her. She touched his cheek gently (her hand delightfully cool from holding the water glass) before sliding her hand to the back of his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"I love you, Sheik, and I'm very proud of you for standing up for yourself," she said quietly.

If Sheik cried again, no one needed to know.

**The End**


End file.
